


The Princess Discovery Plot Remastered: Some Drabbles

by Drizzt_Do_Urden



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2020-12-03 23:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20889422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drizzt_Do_Urden/pseuds/Drizzt_Do_Urden
Summary: Drabbles that would remaster the Celaena-is-a-princess plot from Throne of Glass. They're just drabbles because I don't have the passion/energy to make it into a fix fic.





	1. Crown of Midnight Drabble

Celaena did not know _how_ they'd managed to find an impostor Aelin so quickly, or what ungodly sum of money they'd paid the poor girl to stick her neck out. And if it weren't her job to "stop" the rebellion, she honestly wouldn't care. 

Because this Aelin of theirs was _clearly_ fake, and so was any other possible "Aelin" the rebels could get their hands on. Celaena didn't even need to lay eyes on the girl to know _that_. 

She had, after all, seen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius drown in an icy river ten years ago with her very own eyes. And that was all the proof Celeana needed.

Celeana wiped away the tears that were forming in her eyes. Gods-the rebels were really something else, weren't they? 

If only Aelin was alive to see her best friend forced to work for the king that had destroyed Terrasen. To see her good name sullied by a bunch of selfish aristocrats who cared nothing for Terrasen, or Eyllwe, or anybody but themselves. She would weep to hear of it. 

The only reason Celaena didn't slit Archer's throat right now was because of the other rebels, the real ones, whom his petty band of aristocrats and snobs provided valuable funding to. 

***

_A History of Eyllwe..._no, that wouldn't do._ The Havialliards: A History..._equally useless. _An Account of the Westfalls of Anielle_...doubly useless. Was there nothing in here on Terrasen? 

Just then, Chaol spotted it: a massive volume titled _An Account of the Noble Families of Terrasen_. Grinning, Chaol took it out, walked over to a table, and opened it. 

It took several hours of sifting through countless genealogies, histories, and anecdotes about various noble houses Chaol couldn't care less about, but when he at last found the page titled Sardothien, he grinned from ear to ear. 

_Finally_, he thought to himself, _I'll know some of Celaena's secrets_. 

One of those secrets apparently being that the Sardothiens were the least important, most boring noble family in all Terrasen. They were _barely_ above petty gentry, with minor holdings in the frigid, northernmost part of Terrasen, a place they rarely, if ever, left. They almost never made appearances at the royal court in Orynth, preferring instead to pay their taxes through a special envoy. 

But wait...hadn't Celaena claimed that she used to be Aelin Galathynius's best friend? How could _that_ be true if she'd never set _foot_ in Orynth? 

Chaol flipped back to the genealogy section; perhaps Celaena was a by-blow sent to be fostered by the royals. That would explain things. But alas; there Celaena's name was, written alongside the other trueborn children of the house, and nowhere to be found among the list of acknowledged by-blows. And, of course, when Chaol flipped back to the history section, there was no record of any Celaena Sardothien ever visiting Orynth. 

Had Celaena lied about her name? It was possible; she _was_ an assassin, after all. By why choose the name of the daughter of some petty Terrasenite nobility? It was quite the illogical choice for an assassin.

Later that night in the great hall, who of all people should deign to sit next to Chaol but Aedion Ashryver, Wolf of the North, commander of the Bane, the king's general and a general all-around annoyance? 

"Hey, Captain," he said playfully, as he glanced over at the book in Chaol's hand. "What are you reading?" 

Chaol scowled as he slid the book under the table. He never should have brought it to dinner. A fact which sounded obvious now considering that unfriendly eyes might be on it. 

"_An Account of the Noble Families of Terrasen_," Chaol replied. "Which I doubt would interest you all that much, considering how you've probably killed everyone _in it_." 

Aedion's eyes narrowed in anger, much to Chaol's surprise.

Was he insulted at being called a traitor? If so, then he must have a mind of his own...something which couldn't happen if he was being controlled by the ring. Perhaps Chaol was wrong...

"Only on my king's orders," Aedion pointed out, attempting to maintain the same playful grin as before, but Chaol could see his face was still tight with anger. 

"And look how easily you switched kings," Chaol mused. "It's been lovely, Aedion, but I'm afraid I must retire." 

With that, Chaol stood up and made his way towards his quarters. Hardly had he entered said quarters and shut the door behind him, however, when Chaol suddenly heard an angry knock at the door. 

"Come in," Chaol snapped. 

The door opened, revealing a ticked-off Aedion on the other side. 

"I'm not an idiot," Aedion growled. "I've seen you with the King's Champion. I know you two are close. That, and you're researching Terrasenite nobility too? You are up to something, Captain Westfall." 

"Alright," Chaol groaned. "Not so loud." 

Chaol ushered Aedion into his quarters and shut the door. 

"Now, say your piece and be done," Chaol demanded. 

"That book of yours was compiled eighteen years ago," Aedion informed Chaol as he sat down at the breakfast table. "It is therefore missing a great deal of crucial information. No doubt you read that the Sardothiens usually never ventured south of the Staghorn Mountains, instead choosing to stay holed up in their estate?"

Chaol nodded. 

"And I see you have, too," he observed. "I did not expect the Wolf of the North to be so studious." 

"There's more than one edition of that book," Aedion pointed out. "And anyway, here's what it won't tell you; six years after that book was compiled, one of the Sardothiens, Tristan Sardothien, was appointed Master of Coin by King Orlon. In order to fulfill the duties of that position, he went to Orynth, despite his family's usual inclinations, taking along with him his young daughter Celaena." 

"And so that's how she came to be friends with Aelin, is that what you're saying?" Chaol asked. "She met Aelin through her father's position and they hit it off right away, did they?" 

Aedion nodded. 

"Yes," he said. 

Aedion withdrew from his tunic a scroll tied with a ribbon. He untied the ribbon and handed the scroll to Chaol. 

"Here's the proof, in case you don't believe me," he added. 

Chaol unfurled the scroll, and the first paper inside the scroll was a document stating that Tristan Sardothien had been appointed Master of Coin, which was signed in the hand of King Orlon, no less. 

"Thank you," Chaol said curtly. "Tell me though...why do you care so much about the reputation of the King's Champion?" 

"Because she is the only link I have to my dear cousin," Aedion replied, standing up and walking towards the door. "I hope this clears everything up." 

"It...does, I think." 

"Good." 

The moment Aedion left the room, Chaol dropped the papers on the floor and began dressing for bed. Hardly had he done so, however, when he noticed that the second paper in the scroll did not appear to be an official document of any sort. Rather, it appeared to be some sort of letter. 

Curious, Chaol picked it up and read it. 

_ Your Esteemed Majesty King Dorian of Adarlan_, the note began. 

_The assassination has gone off without a hitch. I slipped the poison into Orlon's customary late-night tea, as we agreed. Orlon should expire this very night._

_ Your loyal servant,_

_ Tristan Sardothien _

Chaol dropped the letter in shock, his mouth ajar. 

No. No way. Celaena's father had betrayed Terrasen. Why, Chaol didn't know, but the evidence was there, clear as day. 

***

With Celaena in his arms, her lips on his mouth, nothing mattered. Not that she was the king's ostensible hired thug, secretly smuggling rebels out of the country, or that he was Prince Dorian's sworn protector. All that mattered was that she was his, and he was hers. 

It was not until they at last pulled away from each other and opened their eyes that Chaol noticed: Celaena's eyes were exactly the same as Aedion's. His, like hers, were turquoise ringed with gold. 

And it wasn't just her eyes. They both had the same gold hair, and their faces...their faces bore a striking resemblance to each other too. 

How was that? Why was that?

"Excuse me," Chaol stammered, leaping off of Celaena's bed. "I'm...I'm afraid I have to go." 

With that, he rushed out of Celaena's quarters, Celaena snarking in the distance,

"Not staying for breakfast, then?" 

Chaol didn't care, though. Was Celaena somehow related to Aedion? He knew that Celaena wasn't a by-blow, but what about Aedion? Had Tristan sired Aedion, and simply refused to acknowledge it? The name of Aedion's father had been nowhere in the Ashryver section, after all. No. Aedion was older than Celaena, and Tristan didn't leave for Orynth until after the book was completed. 

Perhaps...Aedion was somehow Celaena's father? It was a stretch, but...the Ashryvers were known to be partially Fae, and the Fae were known to be quite long-lived. Perhaps Aedion's youthful looks were decieving. It would certainly explain Tristan's reason for betraying the royals, at least in part. 

Heavily encumbered by these thoughts, Chaol failed to see Nehemia strolling about the corridor until he collided into her. 

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Your Highness," he gasped. "I...I didn't see you there." 

Nehemia, for her part, simply raised an eyebrow. 

"It's fine, honestly. I'm more concerned about you, Captain. You looked like you saw a ghost." 

"Uh...ha ha...about that," Chaol began, finding himself at a loss for words. "Well...did you ever notice how much Celaena and Aedion look alike?" 

"Oh," Nehemia said flatly. "That. I see you noticed." 

Nehemia gestured towards herself.

"Come," she said, "This would be better discussed over a cup of tea." 

Chaol sheepishly followed the princess to her chambers, where, after sitting him down and pouring him tea, Nehemia said,

"So...have you figured out Celaena's true identity yet, or should I enlighten you?" 

"True...identity?" Chaol gasped, utterly confused. 

Nehemia sighed and rolled her eyes. 

"Celaena Sardothien...is not Celaena Sardothien," she said as she took a sip of tea. "She is, in fact, none other than Her Royal Highness Princess Aelin Ashryver Galathynius." 

Chaol's jaw dropped. 

"WHAT?!!" he gasped. "But...but how?" 

"I found out several months ago when I cast some protective Wyrd magic in Celaena's room to protect her while the tournament was going on," Nehemia mused. "Ordinary protection circles require only a knowledge of what to draw, but when you draw protection circles against the truly nasty sort of creatures from beyond the Wyrdgates, you need to know the person's true name. So when those circles failed, I did a ritual to find out Celaena's real name. And that's how I learned that she's really Aelin Galathynius." 

Chaol blinked. 

"Wait," he said. "How do you know how to do Wyrd magic?" 

Nehemia sighed and shook her head. 

"This is going to take all evening, isn't it?" 

*** 

"You need to start working with the rebels," Nehemia insisted as the two girls took dinner together. "I know you don't like them, but they're our only hope."

Celaena's jaw dropped. Nehemia...wanted her to work with those selfish prats? Hadn't she explained to Nehemia a dozen times that Archer Finn's band of nobles was only in it because they believed they could manipulate Dorian into doing what they wanted? That they would betray their fellow rebels in Terrasen and Eyllwe the minute it became expedient? 

"Nehemia, they hired a _con woman_ to say she was Aelin," Celaena exclaimed, "One who didn't even _look_ like her! Her hair was _dyed_, for Wyrd's sake! _Dyed_, I tell you! That's how little they care about their pretense of standing by Aelin. They didn't even bother to find a _natural_ blonde!" 

"Who cares?!" Nehemia cried. "If they'd had you, they wouldn't have needed to find a fake in the first place?" 

Celaena rolled her eyes. 

"Oh, because I'm _such_ an inspiration to the masses," Celaena snapped. "You know, being the king's hired thug and all." 

"No, because _you're_ the real Aelin!" Nehemia told her.

Celaena gasped as she accidentally dropped her glass, sending it crashing to the floor. 

"Have you lost your _mind_?" Celaena cried. "Nehemia, I told you-Aelin's _dead_! She _drowned_ in an icy river ten years ago!" 

The memory was as fresh in Celaena's mind as if it had been yesterday: a little girl jumping into a freezing river, slowly being submerged until all that was visible was her little blond head, and then, eventually, even that disappeared-and never came back up again. 

Then, her cousin taking her head in his hands and saying: 

"_You_ are _Celaena Sardothien_. Remember that. That is all that matters." 

Celaena shook her head. 

"You know what? Go." 

"Celaena..." 

"_Go_!" Celaena roared. "If you want to bury your head in the sand with Archer Finn, _go ahead_! Just don't blame me" 

Nehemia put her hands up in a placating gesture. 

"Celaena, I'm sorry, I know this is painful-" 

"_Painful_! I saw her die with my very own eyes, Nehemia! My _very own eyes_! And you...you want me to dishonor _my best friend's memory_ by waltzing around and _claiming_ to be _her_? Shame on you! _Shame on you_!" 

"O-okay," Nehemia said, standing up and slowly moving towards the door. "I...believe I may have misjudged the situation...I'm going to go to my quarters." 

Celaena glared at Nehemia. 

"Yeah. You do that." 


	2. Crown of Midnight Drabbles Continued

*** 

_Archer_, the note on Archer's desk began, 

_The rebels in Eyllwe appreciate the generous donation, but we need more than just your money. Any rich merchant can plunk down a couple of bags of gold. We need you to demonstrate a more serious commitment to our cause. _

_ Sincerely,_

_ Her Royal Highness Princess Nehemia Ytger_

Celaena's jaw dropped.

"No," she murmured to herself, "It can't be."

She'd thought Nehemia was better than this. True, money was money, and the rebels needed every penny they could get, but...did she honestly not see what an obvious liability Archer Finn and his self-satisfied cronies were? If the king had selected anyone _but_ Celaena to be his Champion, Archer Finn would doubtless have turned on Nehemia the _instant_ said Champion came after him. 

As it was, with Celaena planning to spirit Archer away tonight, Nehemia was playing with fire. 

"I'm ready, Celaena," Celaena heard Archer Finn say from the doorway. "Ready to be taken to Wendlyn." 

Celaena turned to Archer, still slack-jawed. 

"Oh...yes, but of course," she sputtered. "Wendlyn." 

Archer sighed. 

"I see you found out about our mutual acquaintance," he said. "The princess's relentless demands for us to swear fealty to her and her cause are tiresome. I've tried explaining to her that I'm not one of her blasted subjects; she can't make me fall down my knees just because she's a princess." 

Celaena narrowed her eyes. 

"A full quarter of your little group is only doing this with the idiotic expectation that Nehemia will grant them titles and lands in Eyllwe," she pointed. "While also not having even the smallest drop of Eyllwean blood in their veins. If they want to become citizens so badly, why shouldn't they be expected to swear fealty to her?" 

"As you said, that's only a quarter of the Merchants' Association," Archer remarked. 

"Yes, but a full half of the Merchant's Association has expressly said they don't really _care_ what happens to Eyllwe or Terrasen," Celaena snapped. "That they're only doing this because they believe they can manipulate Prince Dorian into doing what they want. Or, if Dorian is unavailable, Prince Hollin. And the rest are comprised of either former mages who want their magic back or criminals hoping to get pardoned by Prince Dorian. Given that particular...makeup, don't you think it's understandable Nehemia would want some assurance that you're not going to betray her at the drop of a hat?" 

Archer Finn raised an eyebrow. 

"Given that _particular makeup_, I should think Nehemia should understand that she can't _expect_ declarations of absolute loyalty," he retorted. "If she wants someone she can trust, perhaps she should appoint someone to watch over the Merchants' Association." 

Celeana scoffed. 

"And who could she possibly appoint? She's practically the king's hostage!" 

Archer Finn's eyes lit up, his face breaking into a grin. 

"Oh, I don't know...Aelin Galathynius, perhaps?" 

Celaena rolled her eyes. 

"Elizabeth Goldfinch has been spending the past few days in the dungeons, in case you forgot. But even if she wasn't...do you honestly expect Nehemia to trust someone who agreed to be a puppet queen for three gold coins and a free mug of ale?" 

Archer Finn chuckled. 

"I am not talking about Miss Goldfinch," he said. "I'm talking about you. 

Celaena's jaw dropped. 

"_What_?!" she cried. "No. _No_! Are you insane?" 

Archer sighed. 

"You're already running a secret one-woman rebel protection agency right under the king's nose," he pointed out. "You might as well commit fully." 

"I...I...I can't believe you!" Celaena snapped. "You...you _honestly_ want _me_ to be your puppet queen? I mean, do you _seriously_ think the rest of the Merchants' Association is going to believe you? Or will they be in on the scam, too?" 

"It's not a scam," Archer insisted. "It's the truth. And we'd pay you well for it, too." 

Celaena scoffed. 

"What could you possibly pay me that would be enough for me to dishonor Aelin's memory?"

Archer frowned. 

"You're right," he conceded. "Unlike Miss Goldfinch, you do make an exorbitant amount of money as the king's hired thug. Bribing you would be quite expensive. However..." 

Archer half smiled. 

"You do have certain secrets that I can expose to certain kings who might like to know them. Like, for example, that you've secretly been smuggling your targets out of the country." 

Celaena's eyes widened. 

"You wouldn't dare." 

Archer grinned evilly. 

"Oh, but I _would_, unless you were to...I don't know, commit to our little rebellion?" 

"You'd sacrifice your fellow rebels _just_ to acquire a new figurehead?" Celaena cried, shaking her head in disbelief. "You're disgusting!" 

"And you are a scared little girl in denial!" Archer snapped. 

"_In denial_? _Me_? _You're_ the one who wants to sacrifice dozens of people just so I'll pretend to be a dead princess!" 

"And clearly, it's not enough," Archer sneered.

He drew his sword out of his scabbard and pointed it at Celaena. 

"Perhaps you'll agree on pain of death!" 

In retrospect, challenging an infamous assassin to an impromptu death match was not the best career move on Archer Finn's part. Then again, neither was trying to convince said assassin to pose as her dead best friend the night he was supposed to leave the city. 

The results of the fatal mistake, naturally, were all too predictable. Celaena drew her sword after Archer drew his, and a heated fight ensued. It was almost an even match, give or take-Archer was bigger and older than Celaena, and filled with a zealous determination, where Celaena had ten years of combat experience on her, and had trained with the deadliest assassins in all Erilea. Also, she too, had something to fight for: her life. 

In the end, of course, Celaena's training and combat experience won, with Archer's dead body collapsing onto the floor of the study, his immaculate silk shirt welling up with blood. 

Upon seeing her old friend dead, Celaena fell on her knees and sobbed. Technically, she had done what she was supposed to do-assassinate the leader of the rebel movement. But if he hadn't attacked her, Celaena would have kept her promise to him-she would have helped him escape, insane plan or no insane plan. 

Then, after allowing herself a good half-hour of mourning, she sliced his head off, wrapped it up in a bag, and made her escape from Archer's house. As much as she might hate it, she was still the King's Champion, after all. 

*** 

Celaena was in danger every minute she stayed in Rifthold. Chaol knew that. This plan of his would be good for her. She'd be able to meet up with her family in Wendlyn, be protected by them, possibly have them help her take back Terrasen. And all under the guise of a routine mission for the king. 

Yes, no matter how much it broke his heart to do it, Chaol had to convince the king to send Celaena to Wendlyn. He had to. For her good, for the kingdom's good, for possibly the world's good.

***

"You _bastard_!" Celaena screamed to Chaol's ring. "You bastard! How could you do this to me?!" 

She'd said as much to him before boarding the ship for Wendlyn, to which he'd replied: 

"It's for your own good, Celaena." 

For her _own good_? For her own good?! This was the furthest from "good" Celaena would ever get!

First of all, she had to assassinate Wendlyn's royal family, which would be a risky endeavor even if they _weren't_ the king's only political opponents that had a chance of beating him. And if said king also didn't happen to be an oppressive, imperialist conqueror who made mincemeat out of the countries he invaded. 

Not only that, but since the king had threatened to kill Chaol and Nehemia if Celaena didn't assassinate the royals, Celaena had no choice but to do it. 

The only person _any_ of this was good for was King Dorian Havilliard I of Adarlan himself; with the Ashryvers gone, he'd be able to march into Wendlyn and take it with relatively little effort. All the refugees who had gone there to escape his reign would find themselves once again under his thumb, and might possibly even be punished for escaping in the first place. 

Of all the idiotic things that happened since Celaena had been named the King's Champion, this had to be the worst. Nehemia and Archer, bless their souls, had at least sought to liberate the people from tyranny. Their ways were questionable, probably blasphemous and highly disrespectful to the dead, but at least their goals hadn't directly benefited the king at the expense of the masses. 

But Chaol...what Chaol had done was the _exact opposite_ of that. He might not have said it in as many words, but by cooking up this foul scheme, he'd shown his true colors-and those colors, Celaena realized, were the exact same as the king's. 

Because what other motive could Chaol have to send Celaena to Wendlyn to kill the Ashryvers? As captain of the guard, his duty was just to _protect_ the royal family, not help them conquer the world. No, he'd done this because he wanted to earn the king's praise, to show the king how loyal he was. 

And to think, Celaena had once thought she could make a life with such a person. 

Celaeana stuffed Chaol's ring into her pocket, got up off of her bed, and stormed out of her cabin and out on to the deck of the ship. 

Once there, she went over to the edge of the ship, took Chaol's ring out of her pocket, and tossed it into the sea. 

"We're through," she hissed as the ring was swallowed up by the waves. "You and me, what we had, it's over." 


	3. Heir of Fire Drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena tries to do her disappearing trick with the Ashryvers, but is caught by Rowan. Rowan takes Celaena to Doranelle, where Maeve mistakes her for Aelin. Remembering the Wyrdkeys and her need to talk to Maeve about them, Celaena decides to play along for a while until she has the information she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely rewriting everything about Rowan, as well as Celaena's entry into the Fae world. Namely, I'm making him behave the way someone actually would upon first meeting someone they KNOW is royalty. None of the absurd disrespect from Heir of Fire that he shows her.   
I am also completely rewriting everything about Maeve. None of the stupid racism or BS vague evil scheming. No, in this fic, we're going to have some nice, female-to-female bonding that's fraught with tension because Celaena hates lying to the queen.

If Celaena had to eat one more piece of _teggya_, she'd explode. But what else could she do? It was either continue to live on the streets of Varese stealing _teggya_ and wine, or do what King Dorian I had ordered and doom the whole world for the sake of one guard and a cluster of Eyllwean royalty. 

An ethical dilemma fit for the philosophers, truly. Don't kill the Ashryvers, and the world would be safe from King Dorian. However, Chaol, Nehemia, and Nehemia's entire family would die, but Wendlyn would be safe, safe enough to protect people from the king.

Kill the Ashryvers, however, and Wendlyn would fall, and there wouldn't be a single place in the world that was safe from King Dorian I. But Chaol, Nehemia, and her family would survive. 

What kind of person betrayed their friends? A rotten, dirty scoundrel. But what kind of person doomed the world for the sake of their friends? A selfish, short-sighted prat. Neither was all that virtuous. 

Granted, a person who killed for the sake of a tyrant wasn't all that virtuous either, but technically Celaena hadn't actually killed the targets the king assigned her; she'd just relocated them to Wendlyn. As for Archer...well, that had been self-defense.

Excepting Archer, that, overall, was virtuous. But Celaena couldn't do that with the Ashryvers; there was no Wendlyn to ship them off to. 

Or was there?

There might not _be_ a Wendlyn, since the Ashryvers ruled Wendlyn, but surely there were continents _beyond_ Wendlyn. Or, if there weren't, perhaps Celaena could just ship the Ashryvers to the southern continent. Yes. That might work. 

It had been two weeks, two weeks without food, without money, without provisions of any kind. Her once fine tunic and breeches had become a mess of patches, holes, tears and rags, and her hair was a rats' nest Celaena just barely managed to keep contained in a braid. She was filthy, she was hungry, and she was tired, but at the same time, completely elated. Finally, finally, the answer that eluded her for weeks had come. She honestly wondered why she hadn't thought of it sooner. 

*** 

_Perhaps I should have stolen a _higher_-ranking servants' laundry_, Celaena thought as she stared at her reflection in the gleaming copper kettle. With her messy braid held back by a pale kerchief, garbed in a simple brown dress and apron stolen from a scullery maid, there was no way Celaena looked like she should be anywhere near the Ashryvers. Even _with_ her face freshly scrubbed, there wasn't a single soul who would believe Celaena was a lady's maid. Or a housemaid, or anyone who was tasked with anything but scrubbing kitchen floors. She was still too dirty, too skinny, to be taken seriously enough. 

"Jesminda!" barked a voice behind her. "Quit admiring yourself and get this laundry up to the queen's maid." 

Celaena blinked and turned around. Standing in front of her was a bony, mean-faced woman holding a basket of laundry. Some of which looked like it belonged to a housemaid. 

"The..._queen's_ maid?" Celaena asked.

"Yes, you stupid slut!" The queen's lady-in-waiting! Were you dropped on your head as a child?" 

"On it!" Celaena exclaimed, grabbing the basket from the woman and dashing out of the kitchen and onto the upper floors of the castle. She then located a guest bedroom, slipped inside, and began changing out of the scullery maid's clothes and into the more severe clothes of the queen's lady's maid. Once that was accomplished, Celaena tossed the dress of Jesminda the scullery maid into the closet and gave herself the once-over. 

No- no this still wouldn't do. While the severe black dress with white lace cuffs and neckline made closeness to the Ashryvers _much_ more plausible, it was too big for her, and her hair was still too messy, making her look far too unkempt to be a queen's lady's maid. 

But she'd have to settle for unkempt. She had an entire royal family to make disappear, after all. So she picked up the basket of laundry and slipped back out into the corridor to look for King Glaston's chambers. 

Fortunately, there was a helpful servant woman sweeping the floor not far away. Celaena tapped the maid on the shoulder and then asked in the shyest way she knew how: 

"Excuse me...but...I'm supposed to take this basket of laundry to the king's chambers...and...would you mind telling me where they are?" 

The old woman turned, glanced at her, and said kindly, 

"Ah...you're new, aren't you?"

Celaena nodded. 

"Yes," she said meekly. "My name's Jesminda, and I was hired only a few weeks ago." 

The old woman rattled off directions to the king's chambers, to which Celaena thanked her with a meekly happy smile. 

"Oh, I'm happy to help," the old woman. "It wasn't so long ago that I was new here myself. You take care, Jesminda." 

"Thank you. I will," Celaena replied, and with that, began rushing off towards the king's chambers. 

Once she arrived at said chambers, Celaena ducked into the closet, set down the laundry, and closed the doors just enough to hide her while still leaving enough room to spy on anyone who might enter. 

Luckily for Celaena, the first person to do so was none other than King Glaston Ashryver himself. Celaena eagerly drew her knife and was about to make her entrancewhen suddenly the king turned, and Celaena caught sight of his eyes. 

The king was fairly normal as middle-aged men in Wendlyn went: olive skin, dark hair and beard, tall and portly. But his eyes...those were not normal, not in the slightest. His eyes were the exact same as Celaena's: turquoise, ringed with gold. 

Celaena had never seen anyone with that same color before, at least, not anyone who wasn't also from House Sardothien. The only other person who Celaena had last seen with those eyes had been her dear, sweet, poor cousin Lucien. Lucien Sardothien, who had been like an older brother to her. Lucien, whom she hadn't seen since she was eleven. Whose disapperance Arobynn had tried to explain away as him setting off for Fenharrow, but Celaena knew better. She strongly suspected with every fiber of her being that Arobynn had slit Lucien's throat and buried him somewhere to keep him from interfering with her training. 

How did an Ashryver king end up with Sardothien eyes? The Sardothiens were not a well-traveled noble house-Celaena's father Tristan had been the last to leave their holdings in northern Terrasen in ages. There was no way any of her relatives could have sailed to Wendlyn to impregnate or be impregnated by an Ashryver. And the Sardothiens were far too minor to entertain royal visits, especially foreign royal visits. 

Celaena didn't have long to muse on this, however, before a silver-haired Fae male entered the room after the king. 

Celaena had done her best to stay as far away from the little cluster of magic wielders and Fae in Varese, because whenever she went near them she felt a crackling inside her, a dangerous spark just itching to leap out of her and transform into a wildfire. What was worse, her body itched to shift into its Fae form as well. And if Celaena did either, she'd never be able to make it stop. Her long-repressed fire magic would run away from her, consuming everything in its path. 

A problem she'd had long before, when she was eight, and had shared with Aelin. It was part of the reason they had become such fast friends. 

"Your Majesty, you can't keep isolating Wendlyn forever," the Fae male insisted. "Eventually Adarlan will break down your naval defenses, and once that happens they will walk all over us just like they have the rest of Erilea. You need to sign the treaty with Queen Maeve. Doranelle's magic could-" 

"And if I do that, what next?" King Glaston snapped. "Do I have her guarantee that she won't try to steal my throne out from under me once Adarlan's dealt with?" 

"The Ashryvers are descended from her sister Mab," the Fae male pointed out. "Maeve would never dishonor her sister's legacy by-" 

The Fae male stopped, and began sniffing the air around him. 

"Rowan?" the king asked, stupefied. "What are you doing?"

"I...I...smell something," Rowan replied, glancing at the closet where Celaena was currently hiding. "A Fae. In this room." 

"Are you sure it's not just me?" King Glaston said, rolling his eyes. "Or your own glorious ambassadorial self?" 

"No," Rowan told him, holding a hand up to silence the king as he walked towards the closet. "This smell is different. It's...female. One with strong magic." 

Speaking of said magic, one of the sparks of magic Celaena had barely been containing for the few seconds Rowan had been in the room escaped, causing a small candle's worth of flame to erupt on her right index finger. Celaena desperately began blowing on it, attempting to put it out, but to no avail. And while she did that, and Rowan got closer and closer to the closet, Celaena could feel herself shifting into her Fae form- her ears growing pointed, her canines elongating slightly...

Come on, come on, shift back to a human, Celaena thought, desperately trying to shift back, only to find herself the shift progressing even faster. To make matters worse, the tiny candle fire on her finger quickly became a small fireball in the palm of her hand.

Rowan then threw open the doors, just in time to see Celaena fully shifted into her Fae form, with knife in one hand and a fireball in the other. 

Both Rowan's and King Glaston's jaws dropped. 

"How...how'd she get there?" the king cried.

"It can't be!" Rowan gasped. 

Feeling this was as good a time as any to try her little spiel, Celaena quickly blurted out. 

"Your life is in danger, King Glaston. And so is your entire family. The King of Adarlan-" 

Before Celaena could explain further, however, Rowan snapped his fingers and whispered, 

"_Daemati._" 

And the fire in Celaena's hand instantly went out. Celaena then suddenly felt very sleepy, so sleepy that she carelessly dropped the knife and almost collapsed to the ground. 

*** 

When Celaena next awoke, she found herself on the back of a snowy bear with wings which was flying through the air In front of her, holding the bear's reigns, was a tall, broad-shouldered Fae male with silver hair and sun-kissed skin. On the left side of his face, and all the way down his neck, disappearing into his clothing, was an inky tattoo in the Fae language.

Celaena sat up to thank her mysterious rescuer, only to realize that it was Rowan, the same Fae who'd caught her from before. Oh, shit. He'd seen her in a situation which anyone could misconstrue as an assassination attempt. And now he was going to take her to his queen, Queen Maeve, who would not be thrilled that someone tried to kill her sister's descendant. They'd kill her and send her head back to the king of Adarlan as a warning. 

Well, at least the king couldn't kill Chaol, Nehemia, or the rest of the Eyllwean royals if Celaena died trying to obey his orders. That was as good a solution as spiriting the Ashryvers away, Celaena supposed. 

"How long have you been in Wendlyn, my lady?" Rowan asked. 

_My...lady? _That was an oddly courteous way to address a would-be assassin. Although Celaena had heard the Fae could sniff out a person's lineage, and she supposed Rowan might have learned she was a Sardothien that way. 

"Two weeks," Celaena replied. 

Rowan's eyebrows shot up, and Celaena could see his pine-green eyes were filled with shock. 

"_Two weeks_?!" he exclaimed. "They must have made a serious error when calculating your living expenses." 

That was putting it mildly. The amount of money Chaol had sent her with was barely enough to last a week if you were frugal. Celaena had begged him to let her take more money, but Chaol had somehow thought all of her needs would magically be provided for the moment she arrived in Wendlyn. Yet another reason she was never getting back together with him:whatever had made selling out to the King of Adarlan, Chaol had also made him mysteriously stop caring about her well-being for some reason. 

Celaena nodded. 

"Tell me about it," she groaned. 

Just then they arrived at the most beautiful city Celaena had ever seen in her whole life. Which was saying something, considering that she had lived in Orynth, the capital and crown jewel of Terrasen for two years before her father had, of course, betrayed Terrasen like the scumbag he was. 

The city was made of pale stone, and was smack dab on an island in the middle of several rivers, with water flowing through them from several tributaries from the hills and mountains. On the island's north end, the rivers toppled over into a mighty waterfall. The city itself was a collection of domed buildings and pearly white spires, and in place of boats were two elegant stone bridges spanning the river. 

Rowan landed the bear at the doors of a beautiful white palace, causing Celaena's awe to dissipate somewhat as she realized she was hours away from being executed. But if this city had to be one of the last things she saw before died, Celaena counted that as a blessing. 

Rowan, much to Celaena's surprise, bowed to her before escorting her through the palace. The act of which scandalized her-just how much clout did Rowan think the Sardothiens _had_? It was one thing to respectfully address her as "my lady" on the way here, but to _bow_ to _her, _a known criminal? Just how corrupt was Fae society, if aristocracy was so treasured that commoners dared not disrespect even aristocrats convicted of treason?!!

Eventually Rowan led her to a wide veranda overlooking the river, where on an elegant marble throne sat none other than Queen Maeve, with two wolves, one black and one white, knelt at her heels. 

"Your Majesty," Rowan said, kneeling before her. Celaena, too, dropped into a curtsy-it was best not to irritate the woman who would soon be ordering her execution, after all. 

"Rowan Whitethorn," Maeve said calmly, surveying the Fae male with the deep, dark eyes of one who had been alive for millennia. "I salute you, nephew. It is good to see you again." 

Maeve's eyes turned towards Celaena, and an expression of shock burst out across her ageless face. 

"And," she gasped. "I see that you have brought...none other than _Aelin Galathynius!"   
_

Celaena's jaw dropped as Maeve leaped off her throne and immediately tackled Celaena in a great big bear hug!

"Oh, I've missed you so much, my dear niece!" Maeve cried. 

_What?!_ No. No, this couldn't be happening. Nehemia and Archer could be forgiven for wanting Celaena to pretend to be, or possibly actually believing, that Celaena was the long-dead princess, but _Maeve_-Maeve was not a mere mortal like them. She was an immortal Fae queen, one who had personally known the Galathyniuses. She should know better. There was no way-no way in hell-that Maeve should ever, not even for a moment, mistake Celaena for Aelin. 

Before Celaena could tell the poor, bereaved queen the truth, however, Rowan immediately got up off his knees and said, 

"I know, Your Majesty. I had not expected to find her alive _either_. Especially not filthy, starving, and desperately struggling to control her magic in a closet in King Glaston's chambers." 

Was _that_ what he'd thought when he found her there, knife in one hand, fireball in the other? That she was some poor, desperate, starving princess? If that was so, Rowan had to be the biggest idiot the world had ever seen. 

"Clearly, whatever friends sent her here did not adequately prepare for the journey," Rowan continued. "Especially since she had to resort to stealing clothes."

"My poor, sweet niece," Maeve crooned, stroking Celaena's hair. "How you must have suffered." 

Celaena couldn't help but sink into the queen's hug. It was nice to hear those words from a motherly sort of person, even if they were meant for someone long dead.

Maeve pulled herself away from Celaena and glanced out at the night sky. 

"It is late," she said. "Rowan, would you be a dear and show Aelin to her rooms?" 

Rowan nodded. 

"I'd be honored to," he said.

With that, Rowan took Celaena's arm and escorted her off the veranda and through the corridors of the palace. And as if Maeve erroneously believing that Celaena was the long-lost Aelin Galathynius wasn't bad enough, Rowan had the annoying habit of shouting that falsehood to everyone who passed by them. This had the effect of causing the whole palace to go into a frenzy of gossip, so much so that by the time Rowan and Celaena reached a lovely light blue bedchamber, the two maidservants who had been making the bed, upon seeing them, squealed and asked if it was true that Aelin had returned. 

To which, Rowan, naturally, replied: 

"Yes, it is. Now, please prepare Her Highness a bath. It has been a difficult couple of weeks for her, and I'm sure she would appreciate it." 

Celaena did appreciate it, very much. She appreciated how the steamy water caused the tension in her muscles to dissipate into nothingness, rejoiced in the softness of the soap and how it caused the accumulated dirt and sweat of weeks past to slide off her, and most of all, basked in the light, gentle touch of the maidservant washing her hair and the divine pleasure that was the other maidservant's shoulder massage. 

The airy, luxurious nightgown the maids dressed Celaena was also a plus, but none of this pleasure, not even the heavenly softness of the bed, distracted her from the one thing that was most important: that all of this had come about based on the mistaken assumption that Celaena was Aelin Galathynius. 

Celaena could not, of course, let this mistake slide. To delude Queen Maeve on this matter would be unforgivable, and a dishonor to her best friend's memory also. 

However, how would Queen Maeve react to the truth? That Celaena was really no more than Aelin's best friend who survived where Aelin drowned, and was also the daughter of the man who had betrayed Terrasen, and worse, had actually worked for King Dorian Havilliard I as an assassin? 

She'd be dead in an instant. But was that important? Celaena had done her best regarding the king of Adarlan, and it hadn't worked. Dying now might actually do a lot of good; Maeve sending Celaena's head to the king would get Chaol, Nehemia and the Ytgers out of danger, and might very well provoke a war in which Maeve could defeat him, freeing millions of people across Erilea in the process. 

Yes. Celaena would confess everything to Maeve in the morning, and meet her eventual end with dignity. The chaos that would ensue was hardly a picnic, especially not compared to the glorious rebellion led by a long-lost princess Nehemia and Archer had wanted. But revolution was never a picnic, and long-lost heirs solving everything only really happened in stories. 

Celaena was just about to fall asleep with that plan in mind when, in the corner of her eye, she spied a mosaic on the wall depicting Elena Galathynius, holding a sword. And it was then that Celaena remembered: Elena had wanted her to find the Wyrdkeys. And in order to do that, Celaena had needed to talk with Maeve. And now she had the opportunity to do just that. Chaol's treachery had been good for something after all, it seemed. 

Granted, posing as her long-dead best friend was still despicable. It put her on the same level as that lying Elizabeth Goldfinch. No, worse, because at least Elizabeth hadn't known Aelin. 

But Elizabeth had only done it for three pence and a mug of ale. Celaena was doing it to prevent the king of Adarlan from absolute power. Because while Maeve would never tell a traitor's daughter anything about the Wyrdkeys, she'd happily tell her beloved niece everything. 

Celaena knelt on the bed and clasped her hands in prayer. 

"Forgive me, gods above," she whispered. "Forgive me, Aelin. I'm doing this for Terrasen. No, for the world." 

***


	4. Heir of Fire Drabbles continued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena begins "deceiving" Queen Maeve and training her fire magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rowan is not related to Celaena in these drabbles. He also will not treat her like crap, and instead actually act with some respect towards her. Like, you know, he's training a potential queen.
> 
> And yeah, the kiss is stupid and corny. But it's not the mutual abuse from canon, so it's a massive leg up.

The first day as Aelin was surprisingly easy: all Celaena had to do was allow herself to be pampered by the servants, eat bonbons, and answer all of Maeve's never-ending questions. 

"So tell me," Maeve crooned as she stroked Celaena's hair. "How did you escape the country estate unscathed? I heard it was a bloodbath!"

"Well..." Celaena began, racking her brains for a suitable answer while the maidservant massaged her feet, "He- My nursemaid, Lady Lochan, she sacrificed herself so that me and my friend..._Celaena_ could escape. We made it to the river Florine, but...Celaena...Celaena drowned. Aedion...he was there too, and he took me with him and hired a carriage to take us to Rifthold." 

An acceptable explanation; one which was almost true, blow for blow. Switch out _Aedion Ashryver_ with _Lucien Sardothien_, and _Celaena_ with _Aelin_, and it would even be the actual truth. 

"Rifthold?" Maeve gasped. "That's...that's quite a risk." 

"Nobody would ever expect Terrasen royalty to hide out in the very center of Adarlan," Celeana said with a shrug as she popped a bonbon into her mouth. 

It was the exact justification Lucien had used on that bumpy carriage ride so many years ago, more or less. Although, since Celaena's father had been the one responsible for the downfall of the Galathynius's in the first place, she and Lucien should never have had to _hide_ from King Dorian in the first place. Before Tristan Sardothien had died in that riding accident, he'd been living in the lap of luxury at the palace in Rifthold. In fact, before the accident, he'd been in line to become Terrasen's imperial governor. So why had Lucien chosen to hide with Arobynn Hamel, as opposed to living out in the open with his uncle Tristan?

_Probably because he was just as disgusted with the man as _I _am_, Celaena thought. _I wouldn't have wanted to seek aid from that traitor if I was in his position either. _

Maeve took a deep breath in and mused, 

"I see. I have to hand it to Aedion; that _is_ a clever strategy. But then...how did you avoid capture all these years, living in the center of Adarlanian power?" 

Celaena took a deep breath in. 

"Uh...Aedion found...he found a friend, and...he took us in, sheltered us for a few years." 

Granted, Arobynn Hamel was the furthest possible thing from a friend, and he hadn't 'sheltered' Celaena and Lucien so much as forced Celaena into indentured servitude, all the while keeping in Lucien in line by threatening to turn him in. But if Celaena was going to stoop to the vile level of lying to Maeve, she might as well give Maeve a happy story. 

Maeve's eyes narrowed. 

"A few..._years_? So did Aedion take you with him when he swore his allegiance to that vile king? Did he force you to live as a prisoner of the monster who slaughtered your family?" 

"What?" Celaena gasped. "No...no!" 

Shit. Celaena had forgotten that Aedion had sworn his allegiance to the King of Adarlan and become the king's general. Around the exact same time Arobynn had disposed of Lucien, too.

"He...he never took me _anywhere_," she insisted. "He...he just...he left me with the friend...when he went....to do..._you know_." 

Maeve sighed in relief. 

"I see," she said. "I am glad he left you ought of his treachery." 

Maeve rose from the stool she'd been sitting on. 

"I'm afraid I have to leave now, my dear niece," she said. "I have much to do, planning the welcome-home feast for you." 

Welcome...home feast? 

It turned out to be much worse than that. On Day Two of Posing As Aelin, it turned out Maeve had declared the day a holiday in honor of "Aelin's" return. Meaning, Celaena had to be paraded in a palanquin with Maeve all throughout the city of Doranelle, waving to the cheering crowds who waved little Terrasenian flags and screamed out her best friend's name in jubilation.

And that was only the morning. Eventually, at noon, the palanquin stopped on a verdant lawn in the middle of the city, where Celaena and Maeve held court and ate lunch while Celaena commited some more blasphemy. Only this time, it was in the form of allowing those citizens of Doranelle who so desired to present themselves before her and kiss her hand. Or rather, "Aelin's" hand. 

And it seemed the entirety of Doranelle was as desperate for that long-lost princess magic as Nehemia and Archer had been. There was not a line of people to greet her so much as a tightly controlled mass of people in a vaguely line-like shape. And as each of the Fae in line bowed and went to kiss her hand, Celaena grew more and more worried.

How was she going to leave once Maeve had told her everything about the Wyrdkeys? Would they _let_ her leave? 

Appearing to sense Celaena's anxiety, Maeve asked her

"Is everything alright, darling?" 

"Umm...yes," Celaena replied. "Yes. It's...it's just...I meant to ask you...about the Wyrdkeys." 

Maeve's brow furrowed in confusion. 

"The...Wyrdkeys...why do you want to know about them?" 

"Because...I...I believe that the king of Adarlan has at least one, somehow and that...that he used it to amass his current empire," Celaena explained.

Maeve's face became grim. 

"So do I, my dear niece," she said. "So do I." 

Maeve stared ahead at the assembled crowd-line, which, after a few hours, was finally beginning to show signs of slowing down. 

" And now you've put me in a bad position, my niece, " Maeve said. "It is vital, of course, that you know as much about the Wyrdkeys as possible in order to take back Terrasen. However, at the same time-I cannot impart knowledge of the Wyrdkeys to someone who has not mastered their magic."

Celaena's jaw dropped. 

"But...but.."

"They are a corrupting influence, " Maeve explained. "They can give even the most un-magical of people vast amounts of power. In the hands of someone as powerful and untrained as you are...the sheer power might very well break your mind. Therefore, until you have mastered your magic, I'm afraid I can divulge nothing." 

Celaena did her best to suppress a groan. That could take forever. The world did not have _time_ for Celaena to get her magic under wraps. Nehemia, Chaol, and the Ytgers did not have time. Perhaps Celaena should just have confessed the truth and let Maeve wage her little war. 

"Tomorrow, you shall start training with Rowan," Maeve added. "He is young, but he is already a master of magic and I would trust him with my life. Plus, his control over wind will aid in putting out the ensuing fires." 

Rowan. Great. Not only did Celaena have to pretend to be her best friend, she also somehow had to get her magic under control in two months' time, all while studying under the very person who had put her in this predicament in the first place. The very same stupid, lying idiot who couldn't tell the difference between a Sardothien and a Galathynius.

"But that is for tomorrow," Maeve said with a smile. "Today is a day for celebration. To have fun." 

And later that night, as the sun set and the bonfires were lit, Celaena did. She had more fun than she'd had in years, dancing and drinking wine alongside the denizens of Doranelle. So much fun, in fact, that she almost forgot that it all came at the cost of lying to Maeve. 

Almost. 

*** 

"First lesson," Rowan said after they tied their horses to trees. They were in the woods, a few miles away from Doranelle, in order to avoid destroying anything important. 

"You must master shifting in and out of your Fae form." 

"What?" Celaena groaned. "Come on! What does that have to do with fire magic?" 

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Rowan said reassuringly, "But when I found you in King Glaston's closet, it was clear that you were in your Fae form _despite_ your best efforts, not because of them. And if you cannot control your shift, then you have no hope of controlling your magic." 

_And it should _also _have been clear that I was not Aelin freaking Galathynius!_ Celaena grumbled inwardly. _You idiot!_

"Fine," Celeana grumbled. "Let's just get this over with." 

And with that, Celaena began practicing shifting. Shifting from human form to Fae, then Fae to human, and so on and so forth. Rowan was a remarkably patient teacher, but he was also an exacting one-so much so that it took a full week before Rowan was satisfied that she could control her shift. 

"What's your other form?" Celaena asked lazily as she dropped to the ground on the seventh day of shifting practice, exhausted from all the running she'd done in her Fae form. 

Rowan smirked and then suddenly became a white-tailed hawk. 

"This," hawk-Rowan replied smugly. "This is my other form." 

Rowan then shifted back into his normal form, smiled and said, 

"Well, Your Majesty, you will be happy to hear that I believe you have mastered your shift. Tommorrow we will begin training your fire magic." 

Celaena sighed in relief. 

"Thank _Mala_," she groaned as she sat up. "I thought it would never end." 

Rowan grinned as he walked over towards his horse. 

"Don't thank me yet, Your Majesty. Shifting was the easy part." 

"You know, you don't have to call me 'Your Majesty'," Celaena said as she went over and untied her horse. "I'm not Queen of Terrasen yet, you know." 

_And unless everyone in Erilea suffers a massive stroke, I never will be,_ she added to herself.

"Then...then what should I call you, Your Majesty?" Rowan asked awkwardly as he mounted his horse. " You are, after all, a princess, while I, as merely a member of House Whitethorn, am quite below you in status-" 

"Call me C- Aelin," Celaena replied, mounting her horse in one swift movement. "Just Aelin." 

Rowan smiled weakly. 

"Alright then, Aelin." 

Celaena would find that Rowan had not been kidding when he said that shifting was the easy part. Over the next few weeks, Celaena would find herself set with a bevy of tasks. The first, and most humiliating, to keep whatever fires she set a manageable level. This task was done in grasslands, as opposed to the woods, to prevent any potential forest fires. And indeed, Celaena would end up scorching a great amount of grassland in her efforts to complete this task. 

Then, once Celaena learned to manage the fires she created, next was shaping the fire. Celaena learned to shape into impenetrable shields and dagger and arrow-shaped fireballs. 

And and the while while she was learning these skills, she was growing closer and closer to Rowan. 

She learned that House Whitethorn was not very important or all that high-ranking in the Doranelle court. Rowan had only attained the influential position he currently had out of a combination of sheer luck and hard work. 

"That...that sounds a lot like my...my friend's..._father_," Celaena told him. "Tristan Sardothien. He was a second son of House Sardothien back in Terrasen-the most minor of all the Terrasenite noble houses- but after decades of working as his brother's treasurer, he was eventually called by the..by my great-uncle to serve as one of his closest advisers."

Rowan's eyes narrowed. 

"Only to poison your great-uncle," he scoffed. "And hand Terrasen over to Adarlan on a silver platter."

"He...he was indeed a scoundrel," Celaena acknowledged. "One who would eventually get what he deserved-a painful death via riding accident. But...before, he was simply...my friend Celaena's father. One who used to pat my head affectionately and give me the most delicious cookies." 

Rowan put a hand on her shoulder. 

"It must have been hard, learning what he did," he said. 

Celaena shook her head. 

"No," she replied. "Tristan Sardothien was a greedy, power-hungry monster. Nothing more, nothing less. What really hurt was losing her- losing my friend-to his machinations." 

Rowan's eyes widened. 

"What...what happened?" he gasped. "Why would he let his own-" 

Celaena shook her head. This sympathy...it was for someone else's loss. Not hers. Somehow, over the course of these few weeks, performing this blasphemy had become easier and easier around Rowan. But she must never forget: it was not Celaena Sardothien who had drowned that night. It had been Aelin Galathynius, the very same Aelin whom Rowan currently believed he was teaching and comforting. 

"I don't want to talk about it," Celaena replied.

"It must have been horrible, what happened, then," Rowan concluded, throwing his arms around Celaena. "Truly, horrible." 

_Not as horrible as what _I'm_ currently doing_, Celaena thought.

Rowan looked at Celaena right in the eye and said, 

"I'm here for you, Aelin. I will always be here for you." 

Tears forming in her eyes, their faces inches apart, Celaena whispered, 

"I know. You're too good to become anything like Tristan Sardothien. Too...loyal, too kind." 

_And you're certainly too good for _me, Celaena added to herself as their lips slowly met and fused into a kiss. 

According to Rowan, there were subtler applications of elemental magic: well-applied water magic could purposefully distort memories, for example. Wind magic could clear the mind, while fire magic could be used to divine the the truth. But that type of control would take years to master, he said, and was thankfully, not what Maeve meant by mastering magic. 

No, managing and shaping the flames, fortunately, was good enough for Maeve. 

Which was a huge relief, because life at Maeve's court, while immensely pleasurable and absolutely filled to the brim with Maeve's indulgent pampering, was also nerve-wracking because of how Celaena was constantly lying to her. Especially as time went on, and Maeve began to feel almost like an actual aunt to Celaena, as opposed to simply a powerful Fae queen who would destroy Celaena if she knew the truth. 

So, finally, Celaena got to ask about the Wyrdkeys again, and this time, Maeve delivered the answers. 

"There are three Wyrdkeys in total," Maeve explained as she stroked Celaena's hair and stared into the fireplace.

They were in Maeve's bedchamber, a luxurious yet homey sort of place. Maeve had deemed this the only safe spot to discuss the Wyrdkeys-the only place where there was no danger of potentially greedy eavesdroppers. 

"The first," Maeve said, "Is a jewel inside Elena Havilliard's sarcophagus. The second is in a hidden cache on the ceiling of her tomb." 

"I...I saw both of those hiding places," Celaena told Maeve. "There was nothing in them." 

Maeve's expression soured. 

"So then they are already in the possession of the king of Adarlan," she said. "That explains much. But never fear, my dear niece: for the third Wyrdkey is none other than the Amulet of Orynth, your birthright." 

Celaena shot right up, eyes wide with horror.

"No," she gasped, "No. That can't be right. Because...because if that's the case then...it's in the bottom of a river somewhere. I...I.sh-I gave it to my friend, who...who drowned herself when we were escaping." 

Maeve smiled thinly. 

"That is disappointing," she acknowledged. "But if it is as truly lost as you say, then we need not worry." 

"No...I need to go. I need to go and get it before..." 

"No, my darling niece, you do not," Maeve assured her. "Once everything might have fallen on your shoulders, but no longer. You are here with me, now. I have plenty of qualified people I can send to quest after the Amulet if need be. And in the meantime, you should stay here. Contact the Ashryvers. Muster an army to take back Terrasen. You are too important to be risked on a fool's errand." 

No. No she wasn't. She was nobody but Celaena Sardothien, scion of a minor noble house, daughter of a traitor, sometime assassin, and now the greatest liar in all of the world. She was as expendable as expendable got. 

And now it was high time she stopped pretending otherwise. 


	5. Heir of Fire Drabbles Continued Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena confesses everything to Maeve and Rowan. Maeve and Rowan go after her.

_Your Majesty Queen Maeve of Doranelle_, 

_ I apologize for running off in the middle of the night, but it had to be done. You see, I am not the woman you believe I am. While you might have known me as Her Royal Highness the Crown Princess Aelin Galathynius of Terrasen, I am in fact..._

_ I am only Celaena Sardothien, famous assassin, daugther of a traitor, and onetime best friend to the real Crown Princess Aelin. I say "onetime" because, Your Majesty, I am afraid she's dead. And has been for ten years. _

_ Remember the story I told you about how I escaped the Lochan country estate? Well, almost all of it was true...except for that the fact that the little girl who drowned in the River Florine was your niece, Aelin, _not _Celaena. Because, of course, I'm Celaena. _

_ And also, of course, the fact that Aedion Ashryver wasn't even there. _My_ cousin, Lucien Sardothien, on the other hand, _was_. He was the one who protected me and took me to Rifthold, where I spent my the rest of my life living not with any friends, but with Arobynn Hamel, the King of Assassins. A despicable man who, in exchange for sheltering us, forced me to train as an assassin so that I could one day repay our 'debt' to him. My cousin, of course, objected to this, and far too often for Arobynn's liking. So, one day, he had my poor cousin discreetly killed, and claimed Lucien Sardothien had set off for Fenharrow. I knew it was a lie, of course, but I couldn't confront him over it unless I wanted to be turned out onto the streets._

_ But back to the important part. Your Majesty, I never meant to deceive you. I came to Doranelle fully believing that you knew I was an assassin and fully expecting you to execute me for attempting to assassinate the Ashryvers. I wasn't, by the way: while the King of Adarlan did indeed order me to do so, I was in fact hoping to spirit the royal family away to the southern continent. _

_ When Rowan mistakenly told you that I was Aelin-apparently the Fae can't really sniff out a person's heritage like thought-I originally planned to tell you the truth immediately so that you would execute me, and that you would send my head back to the King of Adarlan. Thus letting him know that I tried and failed to carry out his order, and therefore he wouldn't...penalize certain people he'd threatened to penalize if I didn't obey. _

_ But then I remembered that I needed to find the Wyrdkeys in order to prevent His Majesty from taking over the world completely. And who knew more about them than you? I knew you would never tell an assassin and traitor's daughter about them, but you would happily tell your niece everything. _

_ That, and that alone, is the only reason I lied to you. If it hadn't been for the Wyrdkeys, I swear to you, you would have known the truth immediately and my head would rotting in Rifthold as it should be. _

_ I hope to Mala you can forgive me, but you cannot, I understand. I cannot forgive myself either, and if you wish to execute me, I would not complain. _

_Sincerely, _

_Lady Celaeana Sardothien_

Rowan handed the note back to his furious queen and protested meekly, 

"Your Majesty, this is a pack of lies. I swear to you, the girl I presented was Aelin and nobody else!" 

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that, cur?" the queen spat as she glowered down at him from her throne. "Did you not smell her? Did you not catch the scent of her true lineage and nevertheless present her to me as someone that she was not? As _Aelin_, when her father was the one who doomed my poor niece to drown in the river Florine?" 

"I did!" Rowan cried. "And her scent was that of an Ashryver and a Galathynius, no mistake! But even without that, her eyes...they were _Ashryver_ eyes! She looked so much like her mother, who was I supposed to think she was?" 

Maeve crumpled up the note and tossed it onto the ground. 

"Guards," Maeve ordered, pointing at Rowan, "Take him away!" 

The guards on either side of Rowan immediately grabbed him and began dragging him across the ground away from Maeve. 

"Wait!" Rowan protested, reaching out for Maeve with his chained hands. "Didn't you smell the Ashryver scent on her also? You were with her a great deal; you had to have caught it at some point." 

Maeve's eyes widened as she gasped out the word. 

"Yes," she replied. "Yes, I did. She smelled so much like Evalin."

Celaena had smelled so much like Evalin and her husband Rhoe it was crazy. Not once had the young woman ever smelled as if she belonged to a different house.

"You must have taught her some sort of magic to conceal her true scent," Maeve scoffed after taking a deep breath. "Like the liar you are."

"Your Majesty, there is no such magic in all the world," Rowan countered, already halfway across the hall. "Scent never lies, you know that!" 

"No," she agreed, staring in horror at the crumpled-up note, "It _doesn't_." 

Maeve turned to Rowan and snapped her fingers,

"Guards! Bring him back here!" 

The guards dutifully picked Rowan up and shoved him back towards Maeve.

"Assuming I believe you are innocent," Maeve said sharply, "And that the girl who wrote that letter really is Aelin...why on _earth_ do you think she would do that?" 

"Scent may not lie," Rowan told her, "But memory can. Her memories of being Celaena might not be real. There are users of water magic which can create false memories."

"But magic is gone from Erilea-" 

"Maybe it was done before magic disappeared from that continent. But regardless, I think we need to concentrate on finding Aelin as soon as possible." 

"Truer words were never spoken," Maeve agreed. 

*** 

Of all the things that Celaena had expected to encounter after leaving Doranelle, assassins hired by Arobynn were _not_ among them. 

It had been _how_ long, exactly, since Arobynn betrayed her and got her sent to Endovier? Two years. Two fucking years. And since then there hadn't been a peep from him. Not even when she'd won the tournament and became the King's Champion. 

So why, of all things, would he try to kill her _now_? When she was an ocean away and had long since ceased to be out from under his thumb? 

_Is he jealous that the king took away his precious pupil_? Celaena thought to herself in disgust as she began cremating the first of the dead assassins she'd taken out. _Did he put a hit on me because his favorite toy was taken from him? __Or is he worried that other assassins might try to follow my example? _

That last thought was a rather disturbing one. 

Celaena finished burning the corpse, gathered up the ashes, and scattered them thorough the nearby forest. Just as she went to pick up the next corspe, however, who should see riding towards her on two massive white stallions but none other than Maeve and Rowan?


	6. Heir of Fire Drabbles Continued, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celaena is apprehended by Maeve and Rowan. She agrees to do a memory-cleansing ritual and learns the truth.

Well. If this was how it had to end, it couldn't have come at a better time. It wasn't as if Celaena was expecting the gods to forgive her for impersonating Aelin, after all. While it was a shame that Celaena would not live to fish the Amulet of Orynth out of the River Florine and hide it somewhere the king would never find it, at least if she died, Nehemia and her family would survive. 

"Your Majesty," Celaena said as she knelt down on the cobblestone road while Maeve and Rowan dismounted. "Rowan. I see you have caught up to me at last."

Celaena rose and held out her hands to allow them to be chained.

"I, Celaena Sardothien, willingly give myself over to your justice to deal with as you see fit," she said. "I have committed crimes against the kingdoms of Doranelle and attempted crimes against Wendlyn, and I am ready to face punishment for them." 

Maeve, rather than be furious with her, or chain her, simply appeared to be taken aback. 

"Oh, my poor niece," Maeve assured her, "We're not here for that." 

Celaena's jaw dropped. 

"What?" she gasped. "You can't...still...I explicitly wrote you a letter telling you everything! Did you not read it?" 

"Yes," Rowan replied, nodding alongside Maeve, "We both are fully aware of the contents of your letter, Aelin. We simply do not believe them." 

"_How_ can you not believe them?" Celaena cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "There is no proof-not a single shred of it-that I _ever_ was Aelin. Meanwhile, there is a _signed confession_ stating that I am _not_ Aelin in your possession, and you're choosing to ignore it over something that has no basis in reality!"

"But it does, my dear," Maeve replied soothingly. "Because you smell exactly like her." 

Celaena's eyes widened in horror. 

"No...that's not possible...I can't...Aelin drowned _years_ ago...how I can smell like her after all this time?" 

"In your letter, you said that you didn't believe that the Fae could smell a person's lineage," Maeve said. "But we can. And scent never lies, dear girl." 

"But she's _dead_! I _saw_ her drown ten years ago!"

"Ten years is a long time in the human lands," Rowan pointed out. "And no one remembers their childhood with perfect clarity. Do you claim to be able to do so?" 

"I..._no_," Celaena admitted. "That part of my life _is_ rather hazy, actually. Everything before my escape from Lady Lochan's estate, that is." 

"If it would please you, there is a ritual that we can do that might clear things up," Rowan offered. "You remember how I told you about how wind magic can clear away false memories?" 

"Y-yes," Celaena replied, nervously. "Do you...believe that some of my memories are fake?" 

To Celaena's dismay, Maeve nodded fervently. Rowan simply said politely:

"It is...a possibility that a water magic user created a set of fake memories for you before magic disappeared from Erilea." 

"I...do remember you telling me about how water magic could be used to that effect," Celaena recalled. "I didn't think anything of it at the time, though." 

"I can clear these memories away with my magic," Rowan explained. "However, as I do not have fire magic, I cannot give you your real ones back. Only you can do that."

"But...I don't know how to do that," Celaena said. "You...you said that it would never be nessecary for-" 

"I can guide you through it," Rowan said. "I can stay with you and show you how until you get your real memories back." 

"If there are any to retrieve," Celaena pointed out. "We still don't know for certain. But I will agree to the ritual." 

Maeve's face lit up with joy. 

"On one condition," Celaena insisted. "If my childhood memories are indeed as fake as you claim and I really am Aelin, then I will go back with you to Doranelle. However; if my childhood memories _are_ real and I am still Celaena Sardothien, you must let me go back to Erilea to find the Amulet of Orynth before the king does. You will not stop me, you will not take me back and force to me to pose as Aelin. Are we understood?"

Maeve and Rowan both nodded grimly. 

"I understand," Maeve said. "But first, let us do something about these corpses before we make camp." 

***

"Are you ready?" Rowan asked as they sat in Maeve's enormous white tent together. The woman really knew how to camp in style, Celaena had to give her that. 

"Yes," Celaena replied, glancing at Maeve, who sat facing them with steady determination. 

Better to have it done with. Better to strip away everyone's illusions right here and now. 

"Then let us begin. Close your eyes" 

Celaena obeyed, and Rowan placed his hands on Celaena's temples.

"Recall the moment you first learned of the attack," Rowan ordered. 

Celaena cringed, but nevertheless she obeyed quite easily. This memory, of all things, was vivid and crystal clear.

It was a warm summer night. Celaena was eight years old, and asleep in Aelin's enormous bed. Aelin was shouting at her furiously, demanding she wake up. Eight-year-old Celaena groggily complied, opening her eyes to find that Aelin's hands were covered in blood, and Lady Lochan was trembling behind her. 

"Mother and Father are dead," Aelin cried. "The Adarlanian soldiers killed them. We have to run, now!" 

"I...I..." 

But Aelin had already pulled Celaena out of bed and onto her feet.

And then, just like that, present-day Celaena could feel Rowan's wind magic blow the memory away, until even the very last traces of it were gone. A lump formed in Celaena's throat.

"Aelin...never warned me about the soldiers? But...why?" 

"We need to keep going," Rowan insisted. "Show me what happened to Lady Lochan." 

Celaeana took a deep breath in and once again allowed Rowan to see it. 

They were almost at the forest bordering the estate. Celaena, Aelin, Lady Lochan, and Lucien Sardothien were the only ones left now, and the soldiers from Adarlan were hot on their trail. Just as they were about to enter the forest, however, Lady Lochan fell and let out a cry of pain.

"Go!" she ordered the three of them.

"But Lady Lochan, you'll be-" Lucien protested. 

"Just go!"

"But, I-" 

The soldiers at last caught up to them, and in swift motion, impaled Lady Lochan through the chest, killing her instantly. They then advanced upon the trio, spears at the ready-

"NO!" Aelin screamed, and then suddenly, all of the soldiers were trapped in a blazing inferno.

Lucien scooped up Aelin and Celaena and immediately began running. 

"Lucien, we can't, they're dyi-" 

"Doesn't matter!" Lucien insisted as he dashed through the forest. "We have to run!" 

And then, this memory, too, disappeared, every bit of it blowing away like leaves on the wind. 

"Aelin...never saved us," Celaena gasped. "The soldiers...killed her, didn't they?" 

"We don't know that," Rowan insisted. "Now take us to the final memory. The one where Aelin died." 

Celaena gulped. 

"I...I can't do it," she stammered. "It's...it's too-" 

"You can," Rowan assured. "I know you. Whether you're Celaena or Aelin, you're a strong, brave woman, and you can handle whatever comes next. I know you can. And I'm here for you." 

"I...Thank you, Rowan." 

"You're...welcome." 

_This memory has to be real_, Celaena thought as she called forth the memory of that fateful night. _No one could be so cruel as to implant it in someone's head_. 

They'd made it out of the forest and to the river Florine. The soldiers were nowhere to be seen. They all heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Alright," Lucien panted. "There's a river ferry a mile ahead. I still have money; if we pay the ferryman enough, we should be in Sardothien territory in no time. Father is a loyalist; he should take care of-" 

"Everyone is dead," Aelin interrupted, staring down into the waters of the river. "Mother, Father, my granduncle...Lady Lochan...they're all dead. Adarlan has taken over. They've won."

"Not for long," Lucien insisted, turning to Aelin. "Your Highness, all we have to do is hide at my father's place and wait patiently. Then, when you're fully grown-" 

"I'm a princess to an empty throne," Aelin continued, ignoring Lucien completely. "And I'm a murderer, too. I killed those guards without a second thought."

"They were about to-" 

"What's the point of living anymore?" Aelin asked. "The bad guys have won, and I'm evil too now. There's only one thing left to do." 

Then, without warning, Aelin jumped into the mighty river, and the last thing they saw was her little blond head being pulled over by a wave. 

"AELIN!!" Celaena screamed, reaching for her best friend. But then, Lucien suddenly seized her, held her by the temples, and said, 

"It doesn't matter. None of this matters. All that matters is...that _you are Celaena Sardothien_."

Celaena had never really understood what Lucien meant by that. Yes, she was the daughter of a traitor. How was that relevant?" 

And then, just like that, Celaena once again felt Rowan's wind magic blowing the memory away into nothing. 

Celaena's eyes snapped open in horror. 

"No!" she cried, tears forming in her eyes. "No! It can't be! Who would do this to me? Who would make me watch the death of my best friend if it wasn't..."

"Calm down," Rowan insisted, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You can do this. There is a way to find out the truth, if you will only let me help you." 

"I...I..." 

Celaena wiped away the tears, took a deep breath in, and said, 

"Okay, let's do this."

Celaena closed her eyes and Rowan put his hands on her temples once again. 

"Picture a burning fire inside your mind," he instructed. "A fire burning its way to the truth."

Celaena obeyed, and the fire inside her mind quickly transformed into an explosion, and pain rippled throughout her body as a new memory, completely unfamiliar, burst through: 

_Her name was Aelin, and she was standing near the river Florine with her cousin Aedion Ashryver and her best friend, Celaena Sardothien. The Amulet of Orynth was around Celaena's neck, Aelin having given it to her in case she died. _

_ "Alright," Aedion declared, "We've lost them. Now all we need to do is walk five miles up the river, where there's a ferryman. He'll take us to Orynth, where I can pay for passage to Wendlyn. Then, once in Wendlyn-" _

_ "It's meaningless," Celaena said as she stared down into the waters of the river Florine. "Aelin's parents are dead, and so is the king. Adarlan has won. They've beat us."_

_ "Not for long, Celaena," Aelin insisted. "Someday, I'll be all grown up, and I'll take them down with my-"_

_ "And my dad helped," Celaena continued, ignoring her best friend. "He helped them kill the king, and kill Aelin's parents, everything. My daddy is a traitor."_

_ "We'll punish him," Aelin said. "We'll punish him togeth-" _

_ "And I'm no better," Celaena insisted. "I killed those soldiers with my powers. All of them, in one go. I'm a murderer. My daddy is a traitor, and I'm a murderer." _

_ "They were about to-" _

_ "I don't deserve to live," she said. "I'm just as bad as daddy." _

_ And with that, Celaena Sardothien jumped into the river, and the last thing Aedion and Aelin saw was a little blond head being submerged by a wave. _

_ "CELAENA!!!" Aelin screamed, reaching towards her friend. But Aedion dragged her back, and then turned her around, and with tears in his eyes, said softly._

_ "Forgive me, cousin." _

_ "For...for what."_

_ Aedion shook his head. _

_ "It doesn't matter," Aedion said, placing his hands on Aelin's temples. _

_ He then closed his eyes and began whispering the words of an ancient incantation, wisps of water magic seeping from his fingers and into Aelin's brain. At last Aedion's snapped open and he said: _

_ "__"_You _are _Celaena Sardothien_. Remember that. That is all that matters."_

_ "Aedion?" Aelin asked, thoroughly confused and suddenly very, very worried. "What are you-"_

_ "You are Celaena Sardothien," Aedion insisted. "Daughter of Tristan Sardothien. And I am your cousin, Lucien Sardothien. We grew up together in Wolfstead, the family mansion, far to the north of Orynth. Two years ago, your father accepted a request from the king to serve at the royal court, and he took you and I to Orynth with him when he went. You quickly became fast friends with the princess, Aelin Galathynius, because neither of you could control your fire magic."_

_ "But...I.." _

_ Just then, however, magic instantly flooded through her brain, and with that, memories and understanding. Her whole life played itself out before her eyes: growing up at Wolfstead, going to Orynth with Lucien and Daddy, befriending Aelin, seeing the King of Adarlan...then going to the Lochan estate, and now...watching Aelin Galathynius die. _

_ And the more it played out, the more it really seemed like her life, until at last Aelin asked: _

_ "What are we going to do now that Aelin's dead?" _

_ And she saw _Lucien, _not Aedion, remove his hands from her temples and sigh in relief. _

Celaena's eyes snapped open and her jaw dropped. 

"I..._am_ Aelin," she gasped. "I..._have_ been all along. Celaena..._Celaena's_ the one who died. And Lucien..._he was never there_. Aedion...Aedion was. And he...just rearranged my memories with his magic. But...why?"

"To protect you, probably," Rowan answered. "I don't think your cousin believed an eight-year-old could lie very well about not being a princess. I think he must have seen an opportunity and took it." 

"If he wanted to protect her so much, then why did he _abandon_ her to join that horrible king's service?" Maeve scoffed.

"He...he _didn't_," Aelin insisted. "At least, not willingly. He..._never_ would have left if it weren't for Arobynn! "

Who, apparently, had been telling the _truth_ when he said he hadn't killed Lucien Sardothien. Because Lucien Sardothien...hadn't been there. The man she'd believe to be Lucien...had been Aedion all along. 

Which begged the question...how on earth had Arobynn gotten Aedion, whom, as Aelin recalled, had been very protective of her during her early years training as an assassin, to abandon her and join the king's service. To, "leave for Fenharrow", as Arobynn had so baldly claimed.

Aelin glanced back at Rowan and smiled. 

"Thank you, my love," she said as she embraced. 

"It was only my duty, Your Majesty," Rowan insisted, blushing furiously. 

Aelin chuckled. 

"What did I tell you? Call me Aelin." 


	7. Heir of Fire Drabbles, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maeve and King Glaston send King Dorian a fake shrunken head declaring their outrage at being assassinated, as Aelin requests. Meanwhile, Aedion revels in the king's imminent destruction and reminisces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, my OC stand-in for Aedion, Lucien, is kind of an asshole.

"Her Majesty Queen Maeve of Doranelle and His Majesty King Glaston Ashryver of Wendlyn...have sent you this," the courier said nervously as he handed the King of Adarlan a massive wooden box.

Maeve and..._Glaston_? Why on earth would Aelin's relatives be sending presents to His Majesty? Chaol's hand swept to his sword as he nervously glanced around the room.

The King of Adarlan appeared not to have the same worries.

"The esteemed Lady of Doranelle is sending me presents?" he scoffed. "Perhaps she and her precious Ashryvers aren't as powerful as they appear."

The king waved his hand dismissively at the courtier.

"You may go." 

The courier nervously bowed and then ran out of the throne room. _Clearly_, Chaol thought, _he knows something is up_. 

"Your Majesty," Chaol interjected, determined not to have the king die on his watch, "Aelin was Maeve's niece-perhaps it would not be wise to open-" 

"Silence," the king snapped. "You are my bodyguard, not my adviser." 

Chaol gulped as the king then proceeded to open the box...only to find a human head with long blonde hair in it. And, next to the head, a scroll with the Ashryver seal on it. 

The King broke the seal, unfurled the scroll, and proceed to read aloud: 

_To His Majesty King Dorian Havilliard I of Adarlan, _

_ How _dare _you attempt to assassinate me and my family? Did you think you would get away with this-that we wouldn't discover your vile little plot? _

_ We found your precious Celaena Sardothien hiding in my quarters like a coward, long before she could so much as touch us. She tried to run away to Doranelle like the lily-livered creature she is, but Maeve caught her and sent here her. We hung that vile woman for her crimes in Varese's town square, and when the life finally left her body, we cut off her head, which we then put in this box so that you would know of our outrage at your schemes. _

_ Know that from now on, we are officially at war. Our army will soon be at your doorstep, and you had better pray to the gods for mercy when you meet us._

_ Signed, _

_ Their Majesties Queen Maeve of Doranelle and King Glaston Ashryver of Wendlyn_

The king crumpled up the note and threw it back in the box.

"So," he announced to the council, "It seems my Champion has failed me. What's worse, Wendlyn has declared war upon us." 

"I told you this would happen," grumbled one of the generals. "I told you, and none of you listened to me. This is what happens when you take advice from-" 

The king snapped his fingers. 

"Take him down to the dungeons," he said to Chaol. "I will have him executed later." 

Chaol nodded and obeyed. The king had never been one to take criticism lightly, and Chaol highly suspected he'd be arresting many more aristocrats foolhardy enough to disagree with the king. 

*** 

"You were wrong," Chaol told Nehemia later that night in Elena's tomb. "Celaena's dead. Maeve and the Ashryvers sent the king back her _head_ in a box today. What's worse, Wendlyn has just declared war on Adarlan, and we can expect their army to arrive any day now." 

"Are you kidding?" Nehemia countered. "This is _great_! With any luck, Maeve and Glaston will crush Adarlan into dust, and we'll all finally be _free_!" 

Nehemia frowned and paced about the tomb. 

"Now," she mused, "The real problem will be contacting them. How are we going to get the rebel forces to-" 

"Yeah," Chaol replied with a grimace, "Except that Celaena is _still dead_." 

"Pfft," Nehemia scoffed. "Celaena's not dead. Maeve would never kill her niece!" 

"About that... I...don't think that Celaena's really Aelin," Chaol confessed. "I mean, she was _furious_ with me when I told her about her mission. I mean, if she really was Aelin, don't you think she'd be _happy_ she was going to see her family? But regardless...her _head_ was in a box. I _saw it_ with my own eyes." 

In response, Nehemia rolled her eyes. 

"Celaena's shown the king _plenty_ of severed heads in her short career as his Champion," she pointed out. "And as we both know, she never killed a _single one_ of her targets.And, you know, bodies decay after a while. Sometimes to the point where they're unrecognizable. Also, blond hair isn't unique to Celaena. It's conceivable that she and Maeve found a dead blond girl's head, shipped it in a box, and sent it to the king claiming it was Celaena's, knowing the months at sea would allow it to decompose to a point where nobody could say it _wasn't_." 

Chaol's eyes widened in horror. 

"Gods," he gasped. "That's...that's brilliant." 

Nehemia smirked. 

"I already told you Wyrd magic doesn't lie," she said. "Seriously, you should be past doubting me at this point." 

*** 

_So. Wendlyn's coming after the King of Adarlan_, Aedion thought to himself as he sat down to dinner alone in his quarters. _Thank the gods._

It had been a long time coming, but at last, King Dorian I was finally getting just what was coming to him. 

The pretext for it was, of course, a sham. While Celaena Sardothien had indeed been sent to kill the Ashryvers, Aedion seriously doubted Maeve had killed her in retaliation. No, the minute Maeve caught a whiff of Celaena's scent, she would have known the truth instantly. And once she knew, she would have embraced Aelin with open arms. 

The real question was whether or not his dear cousin had recovered her memories. If she at last knew that she was truly Aelin, or if she still believed Celaena Sardothien was her real name. 

Doubtless, his cousin's new allies hated him for "betraying" her. For joining the service of King Dorian Havilliard. But Aedion never would have even _considered_ that were it not for the very man Aelin had believed was her protector: Lucien Sardothien. 

Aedion remembered the incident like it was yesterday. After drinking wine spiked with gloriella by Arobynn Hamel-without a doubt because he'd protested against Arobynn's abuse of Aelin one too many times-he'd woken up in the palace gardens in his small-clothes, stripped of all his weapons. And standing over him had been Lucien Sardothien, and behind him, two beefy bodyguards. 

"Well, well," the traitorous little weasel had said with a smirk, "If it isn't the one and only _Aedion Ashryver_."

"And who are you?" Aedion asked, utterly confused.

The traitor's icy blue eyes lit up with glee. 

"_I_," he declared evilly, "Am none other than Lord Lucien Sardothien. The very man _you_ tried to impersonate. Yes, Arobynn Hamel told me _all_ about you." 

"You..._you_ met Arobynn Hamel?"

"I came to Rifthold to hire him for a contract on my father," Lucien said. 

"What?" Aedion scoffed, "You just couldn't wait to be lord of your family's pathetic little holdings?" 

"Well, that, and my father had begun saying some very anti-Adarlan things," Lucien replied calmly. "I figured it was better to have him die at home than by the Rifthold executioner's axe. Anyway, Arobynn was so surprised when I showed up, you see, because he already _had_ a Lucien Sardothien in his protection. I showed him my signet ring, to prove my identity, and asked if _his_ Lucien had offered any similar proof. To which he said no. " 

"So Arobynn squealed on me the minute someone asked questions?" Aedion remarked, rolling his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?" 

"Well, you lied to him about who and your little cousin were," Lucien pointed out. 

"Yes, because I was just supposed to trust a _ruthless assassin lord_ with the identity of _Terrasen's Crown Princess_," Aedion snapped. "What kind of fool do you take me for?" 

"The type of fool that goes to a crime lord for protection in the first place," Lucien retorted. "Because after he realized you weren't _me_, and once I told him I was nowhere near the Lochan estate at the time when it was attacked, he wanted to gut you and your precious cousin for swindling him. But then I asked to take a look at 'Celaena'. He obliged, and when I saw her, I immediately told him who she was." 

"You-!"

Aedion got up and lunged for Lucien, but the beefy guards grabbed him, and Lucien simply smiled. 

"Oh, don't worry," he said. "The magic you put on her is still there. But now that Arobynn knows _who_, exactly, the little girl he's holding hostage is, he won't be releasing her anytime soon. And I now have the King of Assassins in my debt. A win for everyone. Except you, of course. You've been abandoned here in your small-clothes for some reason." 

"You can thank your new friend for that," Aedion snapped. 

"What, he didn't just kill you outright?" Lucien wondered. "Arobynn's sloppier than I thought. But no matter. You're still screwed. When I went through Orynth, a woman was being executed for the crime of being Evalin's favorite minstrel. I can't imagine what they'll do to _you_. "

"They have to catch me to kill me," Aedion retorted.

Lucien chuckled. 

"Haven't you learned anything by now, Aedion? You have been caught. All I have to do is hand you over to the king, tell him where Aelin is, and both you and your cousin will be dead." 

"There's no way they could get into the Keep, not without-" 

"Oh, but isn't there? The way I see it, you have two options. Either, I give you to the king and tell him where Aelin is, or you willingly pledge your fealty to the King." 

"And why would I _ever_ pledge my fealty to that monster?" Aedion spat.

"Because then I keep your little secret, of course," Lucien replied. "And because I could use the imperial governor of Terrasen as a friend." 

"Isn't your _uncle_ going to be Terrasen's imperial governor?" 

"My uncle," Lucien pointed out, "Allowed his _own daughter_ to be killed to grab power. The _minute_ my father dies, he will not hesitate to cut me down if it means ownership of our holdings. I trust Uncle Tristan no farther than I can throw him."

"So you want someone you can blackmail," Aedion mused. "But why on earth would the king ever appoint me to the position of Terrasen's imperial governor?" 

"It's good practice to collaborate with the natives when ruling conquered lands," Lucien said. "But it's not like you have any other choice, is it?" 

No. Aedion didn't. The traitorous weasel had him over a barrel.

"Fine," Aedion grumbled, "Take me to the king. I'll pledge my stupid loyalty if it means Aelin's safe." 

The king did indeed, much to Aedion's surprise, make Aedion his imperial governor of Terrasen. He also made Aedion a general too; Aedion even got his own legion, the Bane. This of course, required him to serve Adarlan, but Aedion quickly learned that one can interpret the definition of "serve" as loosely as one likes. And Aedion liked to interpret it very loosely. 

Most of the "battles" the Bane fought with the rebels were staged, with the Bane itself composing halfway of rebel sympathizers, and the other half being "secretly" rebel spies. As to the king's oppressive laws, Aedion simply refused to enforce them, with the government deliberately ignoring almost all offenses, and the few who nonetheless were stupid enough to get caught were punished with the tiniest figurative slaps on the wrist it was possible to give. 

This, of course, greatly disappointed Tristan Sardothien, but he wouldn't have to live with that disappointment for very long. For Tristan, it turned out, loved horseback riding a great deal. In fact, he frequently had makeshift obstacle courses built in the palace gardens to ride his horse through. And because he was a show-off, the bars he made his horse jump over in these obstacle courses were very, very high. 

And then, a few months later, on a day when he was demonstrating his riding prowess to the entire court, the horse got spooked while Tristan was trying to clear one of the especially high bars. Tristan was thus thrown off his horse and fell to his death, while the horse made it safely to the other side. And no one suspected otherwise. 

No one, of course, except for Aedion, who, in the confusion, happened to find a fake snake and a black glove in one of the nearby bushes. Not that Aedion would ever rat out Lucien, of course. Not just because Lucien would immediately turn and reveal the truth about Aelin-but because Aedion found it rather fitting that the traitor ended up betrayed by his own nephew. 

Nevertheless, Lucien immediately left court to return to the Sardothien holdings, and that would prove to be his undoing. After all, thanks to the deaths of Tristan and his father, Lucien Sardothien was now the uncontested heir of the Sardothien estate. And he had left first thing in the morning the day after his uncle's death, without so much as bothering to put on a display of grief for the court. 

Only a fool would not see such blatant callousness for what it was, and the King of Adarlan had not amassed a continent-spanning empire by being a fool. Lucien was thus promptly arrested and beheaded without so much as a trial. Aedion would have been outraged at the blatant disregard for Lucien's rights, but honestly, Lucien was such a scumbag, and this sort of thing was so typical of Adarlan's king, that Aedion couldn't care less. And besides, now there was no one besides Aedion and Arobynn who knew of Aelin's location, and Arobynn would not carelessly throw away his ultimate bargaining chip. 

That didn't, of course, mean that he would let Arobynn do what he liked with her. Because what Arobynn liked was cruel, abusive, and manipulative-and that was _with_ Aedion constantly intervening to protect Aelin. Aedion did not want to know what Arobynn had been doing to Aelin unchecked. 

Unfortunately, Aedion would not have the luxury of sneaking into the Keep and spiriting Aelin away from that monster. For hardly a day after Lucien's execution, Aedion was called in to the King's office. 

"General Ashryver," the King said, his face impassive. "I am afraid I must relieve you of your duties as imperial governor. You are to work strictly in the capacity as general from this moment on." 

Aedion's jaw went slack in horror. 

No..no-had some traitorous bastard directed the king's attention to the way Aedion "ruled" Terrasen? Had he found out about the true nature of the Bane? 

"I'll admit," the king continued, an amused smile slowly crawling across his face, "You are far better at playing the game than Lucien. I've heard of your light touch when it comes to the people of Terrasen. A touch which I am not stupid enough to believe is merely statecraft on your part." 

Mala's mercy! He knew! He knew everything, didn't he?!

The king held up a hand to stop Aedion from replying. 

"But rest assured, that is not why I have taken away your position as imperial governor," the king told him. "That is because your legion is needed in the Sardothien holdings. The common folk apparently didn't take too kindly to Lucien's death. And neither has his younger sister, Iolanthe Sardothien, despite the fact that she now owns the estate thanks to me." 

_Because she never wanted the estate_, Aedion thought to himself. _At least, not according to Celeana or Tristan. They said she wanted to join the service of Deanna. _

"She has mobilized the common folk to her cause and is now in open revolt against me," the king informed Aedion. "Besides her own holdings, she is now in control of Allsbrook and Rosamel, and is marching south towards Orynth. You must stop her before she arrives there." 

Aedion swallowed. 

"Understood," he replied. 

This was not so bad. While Aedion had never met Iolanthe, Tristan had made motions towards betrothing him to her before Orlon's death: in fact, before Orlon's demise, the arrangement had almost been a done deal. All he'd have to do was explain himself to her, his real motives, what he was really doing, make whatever promise he needed to stop her rebellion, at least officially. Perhaps he could have her join Ren and his ragtag group of smugglers on the down low. 

"Good," the king said. "Now, before you go-I meant it when I said you were far better at playing the game than Lucien. Thus, it puzzles me as to how on earth he roped you into agreeing to govern Terrasen in the first place. Is there a woman in your life you'd rather people not know about? Or perhaps-more likely-did he agree to shelter someone far dearer to you? Someone by the name of Aelin Galathynius, perhaps?" 

_ Damn it_. The king didn't have the full picture, but he was close. Too close.

The king then stood up from his desk, walked over to Aedion, and in one swift motion, placed an unassuming leather choker with a tiger's eye pendant around Aedion's neck. 

"One of the last great magical artifacts," the king explained. "As of this moment, you are magically bound to my command. You cannot leave my service, or harm me or any other member of my blood, or refuse to obey me."

Aedion gritted his teeth. 

"Your Majesty," he pointed out, "I have not done a single one of those things since I came here." 

"No," the king agreed, "At least, not in front of me, you haven't. But that's because you probably didn't have the opportunity. With Lucien dead, that opportunity might very well present itself. And I can't afford that. After all, you keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, right, general?" 

Aedion fought the urge to swear. 

"Give me a full report on what happens with Iolanthe," the king added. "You may go now." 

Aedion then left, and the moment he was out of earshot, he began muttering every curse he ever knew under his breath. This was a bad situation, a bad, bad situation.

Fortunately, since the king had not told Aedion how to stop Iolanthe, or what to do with her after, Aedion managed to persuade Iolanthe to surrender relatively peacefully. And since Aedion hadn't been ordered not to let Iolanthe join Ren's ragtag group of smugglers, said smugglers received one more addition to their merry little band. 

But nevertheless, no matter how Aedion attempted to interpret the king's orders to his own advantage, in the end, the king had still won. Aelin had suffered at Arobynn's hands, and Aedion was still the king's bitch. 

But perhaps, not for much longer. 

Tugging at the choker around his throat, Aedion immediately began writing a letter to be dispatched to his commanders in the Bane. They needed to know it was time to declare for Aelin Galathynius's side.


End file.
